


to when you were there

by lesbinej



Series: tumblr kiss prompts TWO! [4]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, Pre-Canon, its actually not super angsty tho, its catradora so u already know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 01:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20826830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbinej/pseuds/lesbinej
Summary: Anonymous said: catradora 24(24 + a kiss in the dark)title when we were young / adele





	to when you were there

**Author's Note:**

> i love writing catradora anyways stan she ra

It doesn’t even cross Adora’s mind that they shouldn’t be here, that they shouldn’t be in a part of the Fright Zone restricted to cadets (which, to be fair, is basically all of it), they shouldn’t be out after curfew, and they especially shouldn’t be gleefully carrying stolen rations and scurrying from the kitchens like rats in the night. 

Catra seems to know exactly where she’s going, which doesn’t surprise Adora  _ that  _ much—she  _ is  _ always doing things she shouldn’t, and if that leads to a small, private belief that maybe she deserves Shadow Weaver’s harsh comeuppance every time she gets caught—well, no one but her has to know she thinks that. Even if she doesn’t entirely, and feels at least a little bit bad that she holds that belief, however slightly. 

But Catra’s tail is swishing eagerly in Adora’s face, how it always does whenever she’s excited, and Adora can’t help but be caught up in the adrenaline of breaking the rules with her—because deep down, she’d really do anything at all for Catra. 

Catra stops—quick and just as unpredictable as ever—and pulls Adora aside, straight into an alcove Adora hadn’t even noticed. Of course, she doesn’t have Catra’s keen senses, so she probably wouldn’t have seen it even if she’d been paying attention.

Catra holds a finger up to her lips, her furry ear flicking in the direction of the T hallway they’d been getting close to—after a few seconds, Adora hears it too. Guard footsteps.

Adora never really got why they posted guards in the middle of the Fright Zone, anyways, other than to enforce curfew. But cadet dorms weren’t even in this wing, anyways—actually, this was a high-personnel exclusive area. If they were caught here, there would be severe consequences. But Catra doesn’t seem to care, so Adora tries to brush that to the back of her mind.

After the guard’s steps fade into background noise again, Catra takes Adora’s hand—the warm peach fuzz always sends a jolt down her spine—and they take off again, reaching the fork and immediately curving the way the guard had come from. Minimizing their chances of running into another one, Adora guesses. 

It doesn’t take long before Catra’s tail flicks again, barely signaling her quick disappearance down another side hall, this one barely large enough for one person to squeeze into. It’s more like a crawlspace, or ventilation. Or perhaps just empty space between rooms that never happened to get filled in. 

Either way, it’s dark, and Adora can barely see Catra just a few feet ahead of her, sliding easily around in the dark like a coiled slinky. Every so often, she’ll see one of her eyes flash in the light as she looks back at her, often with a softly urged  _ “Hurry up, Slowpoke.”  _

“I’m trying,” Adora grunts, her arms hurting and sore from the bumping and bruising. 

“Well, you suck.”

“I know, that’s why I kicked your ass today.”

“Damn right. Only losers win.”

“That—that doesn’t even—”

“Shut up, quick.” Catra’s voice drops to a whisper, and fuzzily, Adora starts to be able to make out some light—grey and obscure, but still lighter than the dark they’d been in.

“Force Captains, nine o’clock.” Catra’s hiss is right in Adora’s ear, and then her shoulder shoves Adora hard to the side, holding her mouth right over Adora’s mouth.

Heavy footsteps. Close. Adora’s heart starts racing—there’s no way they won’t be spotted, there’s no way they won’t be—

Catra’s ear twitches against her face, feeling like a huge moth beating its wings. Adora almost spits, but catches her breath as two humongous figures, barely even silhouetted but still the most menacing thing Adora has ever known at that moment, pass by just beneath them.

_ “—and the two thousand pounds of steel should be sent to the reinforcements by tomorrow—” _

_ “—what about the tech—” _

_ “—Shadow Weaver said—” _

And then they, too, fade out of Adora’s immediate fears, and the conversation doesn’t matter anymore.

“You breathe so  _ loud,”  _ Catra complains. “Those Captains are real idiots if they didn’t hear you.”

“It’s not  _ my  _ fault we’re all the way on the other side of the Fright Zone!” Adora points out hotly. “We could’ve just gone back to bed and this would be  _ over.”  _

“But we still have to eat these.”

Adora huffs, annoyed and stressed but knowing she’d go to the ends of the earth for Catra, and relents. 

“Where even are we?” 

“X-23-H6—or, as I like to call it—fucking paradise.”

Ah. One of the highly restricted areas. They’d definitely be punished harshly for this—

“Now come on, worrywart. I wanna show you my hideout.”

The “hideout” turns out to be a long-abandoned broom closet that may or may not actually be a hole in the wall. Adora’s unsure, but either way, Catra’s somehow hooked up a lightbulb on a cord to the electric grid, so it actually turns on. There’s blankets and a small stuffed doll that looks an awful lot like a cat, with orange stripes and button eyes that are loose and pulling on the stretched thread. 

Also in the hideout: scratches on the wall that look an awful lot like tally marks, old cans that probably once held food, and one of the staves from the training room. Adora doesn’t even want to know how she got that out. 

“Nice place,” Adora remarks, sarcastic tone dripping heavily, even though she doesn’t try to.

“Hey, I  _ have  _ a hideout. Let’s see yours.”

Adora plunks down on the floor with her cans of rations spilling out of her jacket, too tired to even argue. “Whatever. I’m starving.”

“Yeah, with all that damn climbing.” Catra uses her pinky claw to peel open one can, then two, handing an open one to Adora. She munches on the wet muck for a minute before saying, “I hate it here.”

Adora knows her tone—she’s being serious, but she’ll play it off like she’s not. Because that’s what Catra does whenever Adora tries to press her. 

“Okay, Force Captain Catra.”

Catra giggles, shoving her. “Oh, shut up! You know you’re gonna get it before me.”

“No way! You’re too good, Shadow Weaver  _ can’t  _ ignore that.”

Catra’s eyes turn dark, the way they always do whenever their mentor is brought up. Whenever  _ she  _ happens to come up in conversation.

“You don’t know her like I do.”

For hundred millionth time, Adora has to wonder what that means. 

A conversation for another day, she tells herself, like she’s been telling herself for years now. She wonders if the day will ever come. 

They sit for what feels like hours, or days, making fun of everything under the sun—Shadow Weaver, the Force Captains, all the other cadets. The food, the training, the routine. Everything that makes them who they are. Catra makes fun of it and Adora laughs, always laughs, because no one can make her laugh like Catra. 

How did someone like her survive this place?

Adora can’t even wonder when her stomach hurts from laughing so hard, the food long finished and gone, and it doesn’t even mean a thing anymore that they’d surely be caught if they got any louder, because nothing really mattered when Adora had Catra, and she remembers exactly why she would be so willing to get the moon for Catra if she asked.

Eventually, Catra finishes with her anecdote of the time she shoved Rogelio into the trash chute, and Adora yawns.

“You bored?” Catra flicks her.

“Never, just… it’s late.”

“Is it?”

Catra’s never been one to notice the late hour—if anything, she’s even more active at night than she is during the day. It’s gotten her in a lot of trouble.

“Yeah, it must be getting close to 0600.”

“Look at you and your huge brain. That’s what’s behind all that forehead, you know.”

Adora swats her hand away. 

“If we don’t go soon, we’re gonna get caught.”

Catra groans, but Adora knows she agrees—however reluctant she may be.

“Okay, hang on.”

Catra picks up the cans, throwing them under the blankets that are balled up in the corner of the room. It’s her way of hiding the evidence, Adora assumes—without food remnants, the room just looks kind of like a dirty hole. 

Catra unplugs the light, to erase the rest of their trace—as soon as the room goes dark, Adora has to blink several times to let her vision adjust. 

In the last few seconds before they leave, Catra takes Adora’s hand as she stands up, brushing her jacket off and inwardly groaning at the idea of sneaking all the way back to their dorm, then almost immediately having to get up for training that day. 

Her fingers twine through Adora’s. She leans in and presses their lips together, soft, quick, like she’d regret it later. It’s how she always kissed.

“Okay, let’s get out of here now.”

  
  
  



End file.
